It’s been nearly ten years since I’ve really placed importance on my creative outlet. I figured, if you go long enough without doing something you once thought you loved, and it’s still eating at you, and gnawing at the back of your mind, you must love it enough to give it another try. What I’m trying to say is I miss writing. It’s my therapy. It keeps me aware and stimulated. It keeps me grounded and focused. It keeps me sane, and right now I’m drowning in the mundane worries and catastrophic predictions and prophecies of life.